Cold Feet – Maybe You’re the Problem

(Now that this is a blog for both kids I apologize in advance for the dual pronoun usage.  Get used to it folks :))

So the expression of getting cold feet is usually associated with brides and grooms before a wedding.  Which I never had with your mother, have I ever mentioned she is AWESOME!!!!

However, this post has nothing to do with it.  This is a lesson in humility, really listening, trust and evidence that I am not perfect.  Not that I really needed more evidence that I am not perfect, because no one and I really mean no one is.

So it’s been three years since big brother / you started hockey, and for three years I have been tying his skates.  For the last six months however, I had been listening to him complain about having cold feet to the point where at times he came off the ice and had to sit out of practice.  It wasn’t consistent so I just kept blowing it off as him / you being tired and he / you always has had a tendency to be more sensitive when tired.

Well as luck would have it one person says to me, “His skates are probably too small.”  We go through the process of trying to figure that out, finally taking the sole out of the skate and realizing that his / your toes were at least a half an inch over the sides of the sole on the front and the sides.  A trip to Total Hockey (Note to Self: I should be an investor there.), a brand new pair of wide width and heat moldable skates and fast forward to the next practice.

He / you were tired from a long weekend, were not paying attention, came off the ice almost crying complaining about cold feet.  It got to the point that he / you were just picking fights on the ice and were so not paying attention that he / you almost knocked your coach, who was on the ice wearing shorts, on his butt.

Another trip to Total Hockey and $45 in neoprene and insulated skates later, he / you go two or three practices without complaining about cold feet.  Problem finally solved, but then all of a sudden one more practice with cold feet when he / you are tired, but he / you powers through.

Fast forward to a practice session at Total Hockey of Minnesota (not the same as Total Hockey) and thinking I am helping one of your friends put on his skates, but he comes off the ice almost crying about how cold his feet are and he / you do the same.  Enter Google.

I Googled, “Why are my sons feet cold when he wears his hockey skates.”  Interestingly, more than one article mentions tying skates too tight as the issue.  Enter next practice and I don’t crank the laces on your skates and his / your feet have hockey stink (that is an actual aroma and not something you want to smell, but at this point it was great.) After a few practices with the fancy socks he / you revert back to wearing whatever kind of socks you have on your feet and there have not been any cold feet issues for over a month.

At the end of the day, why didn’t I listen sooner and why did it take me tying another kids skates to tight and cutting off the circulation in his feet to do a simple Internet search.  I had made up my mind on what the problem was and determined the problem was not me but him / you and I was wrong.

It’s a hard lesson for people, including myself, to learn; but sometimes you are the problem.  Sometimes you have to look at yourself first and ask, “Is it something I am doing wrong that is causing this to happen?,” and some would say that is always the first thing you should do.  I don’t know about that, but I hope I do more often moving forward.

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Priorities – Hard Decisions Made Easy

If I were to summarize my priorities they would be:

1. Family
2. Friends
3. Fun
4. Work

It was that simple list that led me down the path to make one of the hardest career decisions I have ever made. Making the decision to leave Mayo Clinic.

I think it is pretty well established the impact that Mayo Clinic has had on me in both my professional and personal life. Starting with Charles Mayo pioneering the pyloric stenosis procedure that saved my life as an infant to bringing me new friends, mentors and an appreciation for life in general that I will never loose.

Ultimately the three hours I was loosing with my family a day were unacceptable and with work being fourth on the list of what is most important, the choice was easy.

I think that this lesson applies in so many ways to so many things. If you are presented with difficult decisions, just ask yourself; “Where does this fall in my list of priorities.”

Doing nothing or making the hard choice may be very easy depending on where things are on your list of priorities.

I have also done this relative to competing in triathlons. While I would love to do much better than I do today in triathlons, I do not want it to take away too much from family in the number of hours I spend training. However, while it might be something that falls lower on the list at first because I find it to be fun, the fact of the matter is that if I do not train and work out my health will suffer impacting my family. That is something I do not want to happen either.

In this case, I was able to find a compromise. I train to finish and to be healthy and focus less on the improvement than I used to. So while it may be easier to make decisions if you have priorities, the answers do not always have to be one over the other. Compromise is healthy too.

Balance

“At the end of your life no one that matters will care how well you managed a balance sheet, but the balance you managed to maintain in your life will have mattered to them.”

Today I am sitting in my Management Principles class at the St Mary’s University of Minnesota still in route to get the degree that I promised Nan that I would get and today I had the privilege of being exposed to a man by the name of Jim Klobuchar (http://www.jimklobuchar.com).

Jim was very entertaining and had lots of great stories to tell, but he repeated a couple of different times, “If there was one gift I could give to you it would be the gift of curiosity.”

It was such a simple statement, but it truly is thought provoking.  I immediately jumped to how closely it matches to the idea of learning something new every day, but in such an elegantly simple way differs in that it is a mechanism to learn that lesson.  Curiosity is such a strong learning tool and I hope the both of you have ample curiosity in your lives.

As for my lesson for today even know I have been doing Yoga for many years and heard the statement before, Jim shared with us the meaning of Namaste.  The meaning of the word is, ‘I bow to the divine in you.’  Such a powerful statement of respect and a wish for another and with that said.

Namaste,

Dad

 

Jim Klobuchar Book

Big Brother

On September 6, 2013 you became a big brother. I wish there was a ton of advice that I could offer, but even though I have both a younger brother and younger sister I am still learning what it means to be a big brother.

Here are some of the lessons I have learned so far:

  1. Be Patient
    • At times you will be frustrated with your sister, but that frustration will pass and she will always be your sister.
  2. Let Her Make Mistakes
    • Part of growing up will is learning and we learn the most from our mistakes.  If you try to keep your sister from making mistakes you will be taking away her opportunities to learn.
  3. Protect Her
    • Sometimes you will need to step in and keep her from making mistakes, which is contradictory to #2.  You will make mistakes in picking the right times to protect her and you will need to learn from your mistake
  4. Be a Student
    • Accept the fact that your sister will sometimes know more than you, she will be right and you will be wrong.  This doesn’t mean you have failed it hopefully means that we all have succeeded.
  5. Be a Teacher
    • Nothing like continuing the contradictions, but remember being a teacher does not mean being a preacher.

Moments I’ll Always Remember

On Monday, April 15, 2013 two bombs exploded near the finish line of the Boston Marathon. I was sitting at my desk on Gonda 1 in the Mayo Clinic when I found out. I spent the next 15 minutes on Twitter, Facebook and Google trying to understand what happened.

On September 11, 2001 I was sitting on the couch in the living room of our townhouse with Caesar sitting on my lap watching the Today Show. They were talking about what appeared to be a fire at the World Trade Center in New York when a “small plane” appeared to hit the other World Trade Center tower. We later found out that it was not a small plane and they were two of four planes that were to be used as weapons by terrorists that day.

These to date are two of the most engrained memories that I have in my life. I can remember every detail around those moments, with almost every one of my senses engaged up to the near numb feeling that I experienced throughout my entire body. They are also the worst memories that I have.

Fortunately, I have two equally good memories where the same senses engaged.

The first is when your mother was walking toward me on our wedding day, right up until your Grandpa Marv let go of her at the altar and went in for the kiss. He kissed me and not your mom. She remembers that.

The rest of the ceremony and the day are a blur because of nerves and activity. Most Wisconsin weddings would be a blur because of the drinking, but I had one glass of champagne all day.

The second good memory was when you were born on Friday, July 13, 2007. I remember almost every moment of joy, anticipation and even fear. Right after you were born there was what I thought was a frantic call for help and you weren’t making a peep. It was probably seconds before we heard your voice for the first time, but even today when I think about it, it feels like hours.

There are other memories, some of which I mentioned in previous posts and others I hope to get to in the future, but these are the four most significant.

The four memories where I can recall the tastes, the sounds, exactly what I saw like someone hit record in my brains blue-ray player, the sensation of numbness and tingling all the way to my finger tips in all occasions and finally the smells right down to how stinky Caesar was on September 11, 2001.

I figured out almost immediately what the common link between these memories were. They are the most powerful memories I have that have shown me how precious life and love are.

Life and love are by far the most precious things we have, and we should never take them for granted.

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If You Loose Perspective, Don’t Worry – It Will Find You

Humility has never been one of my stronger traits, but life has a way of making you more humble when you least expect it.

On September 17, 2012 I found myself in the back of an ambulance, my third in my lifetime. The first was when I was freshman in high school where I found myself on the wrong side of a wrestling move by our senior heavyweight. The second was when I had my first panic attack, and with my steady diet of red bull and tobacco at the time everyone had actually figured it was my first heart attack.

The third though is one that I was happiest to be on, especially in retrospect, because things could have gone much worse.

It was a usual drive home from Mayo Clinic, the 66.6 miles door to door that I get to experience every morning and night. I looked down at the clock just before the highway 46 exit and figured I had enough time to pick up my dry cleaning before meeting you at the rink to get you ready for skating practice.

The next thing I recall is being woke up several times, by a guy named Pat. I remember being covered up as they told me they had to cut me out. I remember my hand hurting, my knee hurting, the taste of blood in my mouth and trying to call your mom to tell her I would be late for practice. Then another pause in my memory until I was loaded on to the ambulance.

I remember being cold and warm at the same time and then hearing someone say, “BP 220/100, push another, blah blah blah……” I remember thinking, “What the hell, I thought I had my blood pressure under control.”

Things started getting a bit clearer then, but everything was slowed down. My head started to hurt like hell and my right knee was not far behind on the pain scale for a bit. I remember being rolled off the ambulance into the emergency room at Regions Hospital in St. Paul, MN. I remember a flurry of doctors, nurses and then you and your mom got there and everything seemed alright from that point on. Memories are pretty fluid from there on out.

I would spend a two nights and three days in the hospital as they helped me manage the pain stemming from my head primarily and somewhat from my knee. I was moved from the ER to the trauma ward so I would not get to see you again until I came home, with the exception of FaceTime. Your mom and your Uncle Sonny were essentially taking shifts so I was rarely alone.

Your Uncle Mike and Aunt Lisa also came to spend some time, and whether it was the pain medication or the fact that I had just received a mega dose of perspective, we had some good talks that we probably wouldn’t have had otherwise.

The perspective I got on that day, was on how fragile life could be and how quickly things could change. I like to think that is what prompted me to say some things that needed to be said, and in reality reminded me that I should not wait to say things like that in the future, because you may not get the chance to say them.

Unfortunately, reminders of that come far too often. I have lost my grandparents, the best father-in-law a guy could ever dream of having, seen friends and family struggle with illnesses and seen others close to me loose loved ones as life took its normal course and inexplicable detours.

PERSPECTIVE SUCKS!!!

I wish that I would always be able to keep things in perspective versus having it delivered in such strong messages, but it seemingly happens when you need it most.

My most consistent complaint in life is that there is not enough time to get the things done that I “need” to get done. In reality I should be happy that I have that issue, because it means taken into perspective that I still have time left to do things.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is by far my favorite day of the year, because it isn’t about presents and over-commercialization seems to have not found a way to ruin it yet.

This year more than ever I have a lot to be thankful for, which I will get to more in upcoming posts.

However, my list everyday and magnified on my favorite day is my thanks for my family, friends and my health. My life is full just with these three.

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My Silent Teacher

When I wanted to start playing football there was one big issue. My home town of Eden, WI; did not have a team and even know a coach had invited me to play on a team in Fond du Lac, WI. I still had the issue of, how to I get there every day for practice.

By this time my mom and dad were divorced, Dad was running his business and mom was working full time too.

However, Grandma Feyen was coming to clean our house once a week and after listening to me complain about not being able to play because I couldn’t get to practice she said, “Ray will take care of it.”

Ray Feyen, was my Grandpa Feyen and for my whole first year of football he drove the 10 miles from Fond du Lac to pick me up and drive me the 10 miles back to Fond du Lac and some days when dad could not make it from work to pick me up he would make the round trip again.

We spent about 3 months doing that trip together and honestly, I don’t remember a single conversation. I just remember how he listened to talk radio every day and how annoying I thought it was. I’m guessing that is what you will think some day about my talk radio habit.

And even though I lived with Grandma and Grandpa Feyen for a few years later in life, I can honestly only remember two things that came out of Grandpa Feyen’s mouth. One, the fact that he used to call us grandkids, snicklefritzes and the infamous, “Can I get my drink yet?,” when he knew family was coming to visit. Grandma only let him drink when people were visiting in the later years.

I think that it is kind of strange that I remember how much Grandpa B told me, possibly because of the number of times he repeated the same story, but almost nothing about what Grandpa Feyen said.

Even though I don’t remember what he said, I remember several things that he taught me.

I remember being at the farm in the morning and watching him walk to to the barn to start the day.  I remember his striped overalls and hankerchief.  I remember not remembering him ever complaining or looking like he didn’t want to do it.  My memory may be different from others on that last statement but I really think it had an effect on my work ethic.

Although I may complain more than I remember Grandpa complaining, I know that I am responsible to get my work done.

I also remember how Grandpa realized that our regular trips to the Golden Goat to recylce cans were loosing us money and that we should be taking our cans to the recycling center where they paid more per pound of cans.  The only difference is that the cans taken to the recycling center had to be crushed.

He would take our full bags of uncrushed cans from our house in Eden to the farm house and he would crush the cans one by one with a sledge hammer on his work bench.  I swear that each can was crushed to the exact same measurement.

I learned two things from this.  The first is the value of money, your mother may argue that that value alludes me at times, but the fact that Grandpa was willing to invest the time to help us make a few extra dollars meant a lot.  The second is no matter what you are doing that you should take pride in it, even if it means a perfect crush on a can that is bound for a recycling center.

That wasn’t the last lesson I learned from Grandpa around the cans. When we got to the recycling center I realized the bags were put on a scale, weighed and then we threw them into a bin.  The more the bag weighed the more money we made and no one really inspected the bags so why not add some weight to the bags and bingo, more money.

I decided that I was going to add sand to the bags, and then the first bag I added the sand to was gone from Grandpa’s garage with all the other bags the next morning because Grandpa decided to take the cans in for us.

When he got back all I remember is him carrying one bag out of the back of the car, dropping it in the garage, telling us to clean out the sand and that was it. He didn’t get mad at us and never asked why or how it got there.

Then at lunch that day he pointed out the milkhose hanging in the mudroom like the one that he used to smack the cows with to get them to do what he wanted them to do. I don’t remember what he said as much as I knew that from that point forward I would never put sand in our aluminum cans ever again and that I never wanted to find out how a cow felt when it gets hit by that hose.

The lesson; if you make a mistake you are going to fix it yourself and there are consequences for big mistakes.  Not always a milkhose to the backside, but consequences just the same.

The final lesson I learned from Grandpa was the hardest lesson.  Grandma and Grandpa left their farm to move into the city when they were in relatively good health, but what I percieved once they moved was that Grandpa had lost a big part of who he was.  I saw him try to find things to keep himself busy, but he never was quite the same or quite as happy as I remembered him being on the farm.

Grandpa seemed to loose a little bit more of himself every day and I remember watching him struggle to get the bread he always dunked into his coffee into his mouth before it fell apart.  I saw him fail more times than I would like to remember.

I don’t know if Grandpa would have lived longer or had more quality of life if they never left the farm, but I do think he would have been happier.  He never said that to me, at least that I can remember, but that is what I think.

What I do know is that I will always seek to ensure my life is full and I will hold on tight to those things that keep me happy.

I will also endeavor to lead as much by example as well as my Grandpa Feyen did.

 

The Garden of Eden: More Hometown Memories

I remember two welcome signs from the town where I grew up.

The first said, “Welcome to the home town of baseball star Jim Gantner.” Most people say, “Jim who?”

The second said, “Welcome to the Garden of Eden.” A biblical reference to some, but for me the bible is not exactly where my first thought goes when I think of good ole, Eden, WI.

I have already chronicled some of the outstanding moments and my most trafficked post to date, A Kick to the Nuts.

But when I think of Eden as I do every once in a while, the first memory that comes to mind is the canning company on the other side of the tracks from where I lived.

(As a side bar, I still don’t know if I grew up on the right or wrong side of the tracks.)

I think of how during the canning season I would race my friends on our bikes through the canning factory as the machines were running and the workers were working. Some of the workers got a kick out of it and others would be yelling four letter words which I was very familiar with by the age of…….well, since I can remember.

I think of how sometimes I would use those race routes to ride away from bullies and my absolute favorite time when I took to the railroad tracks coming out of the canning company and got going as fast as I could, hopped the rail with my bike and came to a complete stop with a bully in tow.

He tried to stop and hit the rail and went skidding on the tracks between the two rails. The chase ended at that moment and he never bothered me again, I also never told the story to anyone until now.

The other things I think of are:

  • Collecting cans and literally hanging out after the evening softball games so that when the players finished their beers they would throw them to all of us kids that were collecting cans and watch us scramble to get them. It probably was fun for them, but for us it was our weekly allowance they were toying with as almost every Friday Dad took us to the Golden Goat, automated recycling machine, to turn the aluminum cans into quarters.
  • Being an altar boy at the local church and having the responsibility after the last mass on Sunday to get the priest his whiskey and water after he polished off the jug of wine for the day. The priest was a great guy, but boy did he like his alcohol.
  • Having the local Sheriff come to our house after someone reported that I was running around town with a gun pretending to shoot it. I was actually doing it and it was a toy gun.
  • Not having a football team so having to have at first, my Grandpa Feyen pick me up and drive me 10 miles to practice everyday the first year I played.
  • Playing baseball, kickball, tetherball and basketball all in our own driveway and yard.  I especially remember playing basketball and how no one would want to play against me in our driveway because I had the slope and the height of that driveway mastered.
  • Sledding, ice skating, snowmobiling down at Fireman’s park. Where I also started the trash in the bathroom on fire and proceeded to get busted by the fire chief who was one of your Pappa Jim’s friends and a fellow firefighter. .
  • Driving the snowmobile during the winter and getting it stuck once when I wasn’t supposed to have it out. Someone helped me get it unstuck so I thought I had gotten away with it. Unfortunately that person knew Pappa Jim too and I was grounded from the snowmobile for a couple of weeks.

There’s more and I’ll probably come back to them again, but the last couple lead me to a lesson I kind of learned living in Eden.

Everyone knew everyone and there really was not any getting away with anything. You might actually think you got away with something, but it would come back around eventually.

I think that has stuck with me a bit. A little over two years ago I took you to your first football game to watch one of my friend’s sons play. I snapped a picture of you watching, a picture that is mostly of your head, but you can still see him on the field.

I gave him that picture as a graduation present with a note that said something like:

Whether you know it or not someone is always watching you, so you should always act like you care that they do.

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